People Get Ready

There is an adage that has served me well whenever I find myself faced with a thought dilemma.  The kind of conundrum that has me wondering about the consequences of an important decision or asking the question, "How can I begin to make sense of this?"
What I do is follow some simple advice: what do the finest minds, in your view, have to say about this?  Seek out the ideas of those you respect the most and try to find out what their perspectives teach you.
We all know that there is a palpable fear running through this country right now?  Despite our attempts at unity, we are a hugely divided nation that seems to be resting on the brink of disaster.  All the signs are there.  Things are not going well.  Life is tough and tougher.  If ever there were to be a second Civil in this country, this is the time.
I don't need to run down the list of circumstances and realities, the improbable cast of characters.  The daily stream of violence and savagery in all forms that presents itself wherever we go.  What I do need to do is pass along some thoughts from one of those brilliant thinkers we still possess.
In a new article, Chris Hedges has outlined his take on America 2018 and how we can turn around this fragile mess we're in if we so desire.
https://www.commondreams.org/views/2018/05/21/coming-collapse
Hedges uses the term inverted totalitarianism  (and credits its author) to highlight why no one particular party is to blame, but rather it is the system we often defend that needs replacing.  I'll reference the article, and document it here, but I'm not going any further because it is one particular thought contained therein that has captured my attention.
We all know that the media is out of control, but it's hard to criticize it sometimes because it is under attack by the current administration.  And, after all, one of the hallmarks Fascism is to attack and destroy a free press.  Yet, the media as it exists today often supports unintended consequences.  As Hedges notes,
"It drones on and on and on about empty topics such as Russian meddling and a payoff to a porn actress that have nothing to do with the daily hell that, for many defines life in America.  It refuses to critique or investigate the abuses by corporate power, which has destroyed our democracy and economy and orchestrated the largest transfer of wealth upward in American history."
Few would dispute these claims.
But what resonates most in all this with me is what the American people are willing to do about that "daily hell" that seems to have defined their lives.
Group catharsis coming?

Sitting

I'm in a dream.  But I'm not.  It's always that way when I return to the Bay Area and try to negotiate my old, once familiar haunts.  The roads have changed; they are configured differently in many places.  Just going from one to another confronts me with choices and risks I didn't know I had.  Try to enjoy the moment I keep telling myself.
Enjoyment comes in the form of finding a shady place with a plastic chair and a cement shelf on which to rest my cup of Peet's coffee.  Street musicians have upped their game here.  What would pass for a "homeless" man in some cities has a sophisticated sound system that sends the background music to everyone from Marvin Gaye to Sinatra wafting over the cloudless sky.  He sings his heart out.  A real latter-day Mel Torme, he forms the backdrop for aging skateboarders, all manner of I-Phone fiddlers, and those who run errands or walk dogs or simply rush around the gentrified park they inhabit.

We are listening to his music without choice in the matter.  This is Berkeley, after all.  He is free to serenade with the blend of power saws, traffic, an occasional train whistle, and a barking dog.
He is flying to the moon now and playing among the stars as I try to recall how many businesses here on 4th St. are no longer here this year.
The umbrellaed tables are full with more people talking into devices than real faces.
Everything is in transition.  People are dressed for a cool morning and a warm day all at once.
Trucks back up with their repeating warning beeps punctuating the troubadour's latest offering.  He's now left his heart in SanFrancisco.  The nerve! Taking on Tony Bennet in front of God and everyone.
Suddenly, I realize I've taken my place among the ranks of the retired.
Being able to sip coffee and get a free concert is not to be taken lightly.  I no longer wheel and deal, but rather heal and feel.
It occurs to me too, that by the end of one week in my forgotten neighborhood, it would all come tumbling back.  At least enough to get around easily.

Everybody's Happy??

The two ideas in one sentence are problematic, to say the least.  Like good and evil, or elation and depression, there is a relationship.  But honestly, how does the sound of a "Reparations Happy Hour" sound to you?
This is the recent brainchild of some political activists in Portland.  Portland, Or you may recall, is the place that was once called, "where 20 somethings go to retire."  But, in reality, in Portland, all things are possible.

The idea was simple.  You ask white folks to contribute $10. and then stage a Happy Hour for black folks where they can get together knowing that enough, or maybe some... white people care about recognizing the evils and far-reaching consequences of slavery on the black community to want to do something other than talk about the idea.
Sounds preposterous, sounds amiss, or even ridiculous, yet this is exactly what came about recently in "the city that cares."*
It hasn't been an overwhelming success but these things take time, don't they?  We'll see; after all, it is doing something more than just talking about the idea.  And...it is an idea that has been around for decades.
One would think that if the U.S. government were really in earnest about some sort of financial compensation for the relatives of those were held in bondage, then something would have been done.
All these years later that Reconstruction proposal of "40 acres and a mule" looks pretty good.  But it never happened and don't hold your breath.
As bizarre and inadequate as the reparations happy hour concept is and sounds, one could argue that at least it gets folks talking.  And talk not too expensive.
Reparations for something as horrendous and far-reaching as the "peculiar institution" extend far into the trillions of dollars.  Then there is all the "it wasn't me or my generation" rhetoric you have to wade through. It's daunting, but what isn't as impossible is a group of folks making a small contribution and extending a drink and a bite to eat to a group of other folks.
I'm still processing this one.  bout the only ting, I can say for sure is that Portland, you never disappoint.

1968

50 years ago it was 1968.  Arguably one of the most difficult years for this young nation, 1968 had the feeling of a malaise settling over the country.  Some would say it is not uncommon to what people are feeling today with the likes of Donald Trump in the White House.
In 1968 I was 21, and completing my Junior year in college.  On that June Tuesday in '68 when Californians went to the polls, I had a final exam in a class on political philosophy.  I wrote my Blue Book exam on the theories expressed in a book called The Radical Liberal. The author was my professor at UCLA that year, Arnold S. Kaufmann.  It was all so contemporary.

Comparing the ideas of Eugene McCarthy and Robert Kennedy was rewarding, even for a 3- hour exam.  What was far less worthwhile was the fact that I went home only to watch the assassination of Robert Kennedy shortly after he was declared the winner of the California primary.
I was in McCarthy's camp prior to that day.  But RFK was getting to me, particularly because he was outspoken on Civil Rights and social justice issues beyond the morality of the Vietnam War seemed to matter more to him.  In an instant, it all became irrelevant.  We would not have another Kennedy in the White House, at least not in that year.
Much like today, people were struggling to separate their feelings for their country from their feelings for their government.  I'd seen Robert Kennedy earlier that year as he spoke on the campus of Cal State, Northridge.  Even then, more radical members of the crowd were shouting at him, urging him to "open up the archives" insinuating that there was much to learn about the narrative that passed for the Warren Commission's conclusions about who killed his brother John. With Bobby that day was an entourage that included actor Peter Lawford (married to his sister) and pro football player Roosevelt Grier, the massive NY Giant who endorsed RFK because of his record on Civil Rights.   A month later the traveling roadshow that was his campaign was relegated to history.
The malaise deepened.  The "downer" was palpable. In two months the fight was literally taken to the streets and the whole world watched as the status quo paved the way for a Nixon comeback.
So here I sit, 50 years onward and the malaise has returned.